Night Mists
by Twists Of Destiny
Summary: Pre-series. When John goes out for a hunt, Sam and Dean don't realise its the last time. While hunting for the thing that took him, they run into a 'drug addict' girl named Christian. Secrets and romance fly and their lives will never be the same again.
1. Death

**Ok, so this is Book 1 of the Angel's by Blood series, so far, I only have three stories planned for it, though I could be like Eric Kripke and go for five. . . And sign Sam and Dean for a sixth one. ROFL! Anyway, hope you enjoy. I love fanfiction, its like constantly harbouring your talents while you try to find a life. **

**WARNING; Major Googling in this story, I know nothing about medicine or states and cities of America. . . ok, well I know a fair bit about America, I'll admit that. Plus, if I get any medical procedures wrong, tell me. I'm not aspiring to be a doctor, so if you are or used to be a doctor or nurse, then correct me where I'm wrong so I can learn and never make those mistakes again. Oh, and major drug, alcohol and tobacco use to come. **

**Yeah, I guess you can say I love dark stories, and I love writing them with everything dark my twisted mind can come up with. **

Chapter 1

Sixteen year old Dean and eleven-year old Sam sat in the Impala. It had been Dean's for about a week now, and it was becoming increasingly impossible to pull him out if it. Sam didn't think that his brother could have been any more attached to it, though on his sixteenth birthday, he sure had been proven wrong. John sure didn't know what he had done by giving it to him in the first place. If it was allowed, Dean would have married the car ages ago.

Rock music blasted out of the speakers and Sam mused about the fact that Dean had to have been about five when the Mullet Rock era had began. Which meant that he was almost far to young to have gotten into it.

Then again, there was John to blame for that. He had been from that era, and had listened to it constantly, right up until the point where Dean started to get into it as well. Either that or it was just hero-worship he could get out of. Not that he would want to anyway.

They followed John's truck down the highway, the Impala positively purring as it soared across the black-tar road. Dean was loving this, he had dreamed from a young age, about being behind the wheel, calling the Impala his. Not John's. His. Now that it was happening, he could barely comprehend it.

Toledo, Ohio was pretty close by, just five minutes away. Dean didn't want it to come, but driving six hundred miles with no stops and a little brother who was too young to take over, really took its toll on him, and he just wanted to crash into a bed and sleep. No matter what creepy crawlies were running around inside the motel. He had gotten used to those, more then any teenager should have to.

"When are we getting to Toledo?" Sam asked for the upteenth time.

Dean smiled, his little brother had been asking him that for the past hour and now it wasn't bothering as much. "When you see a welcome sign, then we are there," he replied, in a better mood then he had been before, when Sam would ask non-stop.

He then knew why John had gotten a truck and gave his sixteen year old boy his Impala. . . to escape the whining of the youngest, who was told he would have to ride with Dean. Still, sometimes, it could prove to be a really great distraction from bordom's of driving. Though he did have a desire to stuff Sam's mouth and tie his hands up so he would never talk again, but that was an infrequent thought.

The, Welcome to Toledo sign flashed past and Sam started bouncing in his seat with agitation. It took all of his will not to start saying 'we're here!' over and over again. He already pushed his brother to the limit already and doing it again was not exactly on his list of things to do. He just wanted to get out of the damn car, he had been sitting inside it for far too long already. John could be so harsh, even when he wasn't in the same car as they were.

After another five minutes, John turned left off the highway and into the parking lot of a motel. Dean had to pause and wait for another few cars to go by, before turning in himself. Sam almost dived out of the car before he had put the vehicle in park. He had to admit, getting out of the car sounded good and it was good, giving his legs that much needed stretch.

"I'll get the room," John announced to his boy's. "You get the bags."

Of course, they had to haul the luggage, while their father does the easy job of running a fake credit card by the motel owner, in order to get a room. Sam bit back a complaint and helped Dean, which was the only reason why he didn't say anything.

"Here," Dean said, taking a bag of Sam because he already had enough. Sam would have protested, because Dean was carrying at least four bags already, but held back. He knew his brother wouldn't listen to him if he said anything against it. "Come on, lets go up."

It was then John stuck his head out and called "Second floor!" And disappeared again.

Sam was less content to keep his mouth shut, now. John didn't even offer to help them, no, they had it. Even though he was about to topple over from the weight of the bags, and Dean was struggling to get the Impala's boot shut, with his arms full of bags.

"Not a word," Dean advised, he knew that look. He really didn't feel like being a peacemaker between the two right now.

They made progress up to the second floor, looking for John, but all they found was an open door in the center of the corridor. That was John's way of telling them that they were staying in that room, rather then wait for them and tell him themself.

Sam took Dean's advice and kept quiet, he dumped the bags on the floor by the bed and his brother followed his actions, then promptly crashed on the bed and closed his eyes. Sam noticed the shadows under Dean's eyes.

John entered the room. "There is only two beds, I'm afraid. The both of you will have to share."

Dean sighed and scooched over, he was used to sharing a bed with Sam, though he had hoped he wouldn't have to this time. He was too tired to mind how or where he slept. Still, he wasn't the one to protest, especially not to his father. He'd just have to grin and bear it, with out the grinning part of that phrase.

Sam noticed his brother's unhappiness about that fact and felt far from upset about it. He would have felt the same, he wasn't exactly a still sleeper. He was normally all over the bed on some nights. He guessed Dean didn't want to be squished when he was trying to relax.

So he did what he thought was best; he stayed clear of the bed, allowing Dean to get some sleep before he joined him.

When Sam eventually got into bed, it was around midnight more or less. He was tired, and fell asleep almost instantly. Morning came before he knew what had happened and Dean was a little less grumpier then he had been the previous day. Maybe that meant he hadn't moved around too much.

John decided to go out for breakfast, coming back with coffee for him and Dean, juice for Sam who had asked for that, and some pancakes, eggs and bacon.

"Boys," he announced, drawing Sam and Dean's attention away from their food. "I'm going to go scope out the area, I want you guys to stay here alright?"

What surprised him, was that it was Dean opening his mouth to protest, rather then Sam. "Dad, why can't we come with you?"

"Because I said so, I won't even be gone more then three hours."

Dean closed his mouth, noticing the order behind his words. Sam wondered if he should put his two cents in, but the look on his father's face repelled him this time.

After breakfast, John left making sure Dean locked the door behind him.

Dean turned around and sighed, then crossed over to the window, pulled back the curtain just in time to see John's truck pull out of the parking lot. He turned back around to look at Sam. "Dude, lets blow this joint."

The look on Sam's face was priceless. "What?" He never thought Dean would be capable of unfollowing their father's orders. "You want to. . . leave? You want to leave?" No matter how many times he repeated it, he wouldn't - couldn't - believe it.

"Yeah, why not? We deserve some fun once in a while."  
"But dad gave you an order."

Dean winked. "What the old man doesn't know can't hurt him right?" He grabbed his jacket, feeling truly alive for once in his life, because he was finally doing what he wanted to do. "Come on, I thought I saw a games arcade down the street."

Sam wondered how many times he would get to see this, and he was going to take the opportunity while it was there. He pulled on socks and shoes and grabbed his jacket. "Let's go."

Big brother had been right, there was an arcade down the street. It was crowded with kids, because it was a Saturday and there was twelve hours of the day left to kill . . . most people would have all those hours to spend in here; they'd have run out of money.

Dean handed Sam some coins and sent him off to play some games.

They eventually met up at a car racing game and decided it would be fun to verse each other. With Dean's driving experience, he was tough to beat. Sam wasn't much of an opponent, considering he was all over the road and kept crashing into everything until big brother told him to steady the wheel and ease at the turns, not jerk the wheel like he had been electrocuted.

Sam took the advice and they ended up playing again, and he crashed less and managed to keep up with his brother longer. Dean ended up winning again, but not by the margine of last time.

The ping ball machine pissed Dean off to no ends. Either the ball would stay up there for so long, he'd lose concentration. Or he wouldn't be quick enough to send it back up. He got told off for actually hitting the contraption. He claimed there had been no damage to the game, when there was a medium dent just out of eyeshot.

Sam dragged Dean onto the dance machine, where you had to follow the steps. Dean was so embarrassed when people started to look at him. When he noticed he was losing, he stopped fussing about that and allowed his competitive nature to take over and he ended up losing by a margine of ten points. A lot less than it would have been if he kept on worrying about what everyone else thought of him.

When they set off back to the motel, neither knew how long they had spent at the arcade. Not until they noticed John's truck parked in the parking lot.

"Crap," Dean hissed, berating himself for not realising the time sooner. He glanced at Sam, who had turned a pale green shade and he wondered if he looked much better. "Gotta face him sooner or later," he sighed.

When they got inside, Sam would have chosen later if they could. Way later.

John was pacing the room, looking more worried then either of his boy's had ever seen him to be. He looked up as they entered and his expression changed, now he looked downright scary.

"Where have you been?" He asked, his tone low and dangerous, and directed at his eldest.

Dean stuttered blindly for a few moments. "J-just down at. . . at the ar-arcade down-down the street." Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, ghouls and shapeshifters he could handle. The wrath of his father. . . Well, he just couldn't.

They could see John struggling not to snap. He was shaking and his hands were clenched, he was biting down on his lip so hard that it went white and drew blood. "I told you to stay inside!" His voice grew louder with every syllable until he was practically shouting. "What part of that didn't you understand?"

Now Sam realised why Dean never disobeyed their father. "N-nothing."

That, it appeared, was the wrong answer to give. Apparently, Dean should have acted like today was his defective day. John hit the roof, and he was still trying to stop himself from hitting his son.

"So you mean, you understood what I meant?" Dean nodded. "And you disobeyed an order?" Oh, God. Did he have to nod or shake his head to that? He stood there and said nothing and didn't move. "Fine, I guess you're staying here for the hunt."

Sam winced, that had to be like a nail through the heart for Dean. He remembered how excited he had been to come on this hunt for the shapeshifter, and now to be missing out. . . that was harsh. Really harsh.

"But dad -"

John glared him down. "If you disobey an order now, how can I trust you to do what I say later? No, I'm not going to risk it. You are staying here. End of discussion." He then crossed the room and pushed past his eldest, heading outside.

Dean's shoulders slumped and he dragged himself over to his bed and collapsed on it. His eyes were moist, but he wasn't going to cry. He wouldn't let himself. This was just one hunt, he'd earn back his father's trust and join him on the next one. It was no big deal. No big deal at all.

Oh, who was he kidding? Shapeshifters didn't come around all that often. There was a possibility that he would never get a chance to take one down again. He completely blew his opportunity. Because he wanted to go to a stupid arcade and have a little fun.

There was no way he was going to allow himself to put his own want's first again. John had trusted him to come and he just prove that he couldn't be trusted. He just let his father down and he wasn't sure if there was anything he could do about it.

John came storming back in, making his eldest flinch. Sam sleeked off into the bathroom and made himself presence as infrequent as possible.

"Dad, I'm sorry."

"I don't want to hear it Dean. You don't understand, I give orders for you to follow, to keep both you and your brother safe. I'm really disappointed in you Dean."

Disappointment was worse then anger, on so many levels. Dean gulped back a tough lump and kept his eyes from becoming wet again. He would not show weakness infront of John; his hero. He wouldn't allow himself.

John banged on the bathroom door and Sam scurried out and onto the bed with Dean, eager for once, not to get into a fight with his father.

The brother's didn't say a word to each other, Dean was so withdrawn, Sam didn't think he would ever speak.

Once John left, though, Sam decided to brave conversation. "How are you feeling?"

Dean looked over at his little brother incredulously. "I just missed out on a major hunt because of some stupid, aimless fun. So you tell me how I am feeling, Sam." He shook his head and propped his chin up on his hand. "It was stupid and I wish I hadn't done it."

"What, have fun?"

Their eyes met again. "Yes, Sam. Because now dad is facing a shapeshifter with no back-up. And I don't get to see a shapeshifter in real life, in person. The only ones I have ever seen have been on the t.v."

"Sometimes its good to have fun."

Dean shook his head, releasing a sigh. "Maybe for normal people, Sam. Not for us. Too many lives depend on us, there is no time for fun."

Sam felt the old anger toward John rekindle. It was obvious how warped Dean's brain was, if he thought fun was out of the equation in his life. Everyone needed a little fun - heck, John sought fun from the bottom of a beer bottle and Sam had been allowed to live ten years without knowing about the dark side of the world.

Dean? Well, Dean hadn't had or been allowed to have fun since he was four.

Everyone else in the family had had fun in their lives, except for him. The only time was before their mother died and he was actually allowed to be childish and innocent. It was a right that John evilly ripped away from him. Evil might be a strong word, but it was the only word Sam could find to describe John's actions.

"Let it go, Sam. Sometimes I don't mind, really," Dean insisted, trying desperately to stop his brother's tirade. Sooner all later that was going to land them both in hot water, and he was in enough trouble already.

Lies. Sam had the ability to see right through the lies his brother told. He did mind, he did care and he wanted the right to let loose and be the kid that he was. He wasn't an adult yet. So he shouldn't be treated like one all the time.

"Yeah, right Dean."

With a sigh, Dean shrugged. "Believe what you want. I'm used to it, so naturally I don't mind."

"That's my point, man! Dad hasn't given you any right to be wild, and that's not ok! He shouldn't dump his issues and problems on you, especially not when you were four. You didn't deserve it, and you don't now!"

"I asked for it," Dean lied.

"Bull!" Dean made a memo to stop swearing around him. "How could you ask for so much responsibility, when you probably didn't even know what the word meant at the time?" he demanded, balling his fists up in anger. "Dad had absolutely no right!"

"He's our dad, Sam. He has the right."

"Not to do that, he doesn't."

Where the hell did Sam get his arguments from? It seemed no matter what the situation, he always had an opinion ready. Especially when it was during an argument with John. He was very opinionated and brutally honest. Sam could very well be a lawyer if they had grown up in a different lifestyle then what they did now.

"I don't mind, Sam. Neither should you."

Sam smirked. "But I will mind it. I'll say something to him."

Dean's eyes flashed dangerously. "Don't even think about it. You might ruin my chances of being present for the next hunt."

"Its just hunting Dean, its not like you don't know anything else." The way Dean blushed and looked down at the ground was enough. "Oh, God. It is all you know, isn't it? See what I mean! He's given you nothing except a world of pain and oblivion. There is a normal life out there for you!"

"The difference between you and me, is that I knew mom, and that I still remember her. I want revenge, almost as much as dad does, so don't you dare start any bullshit. Get your facts straight first."

It was Sam's turn to look down. "Its wrong."

"Its life. We don't get a say."

"Well we should." Sam pouted and made him look more like a little child then ever before. Dean had to grin, but he wouldn't point that fact out, despite the cuteness of the boy, he literally had a bite worse then his bark.

"I know, but we just don't, ok? So drop it. Come on, lets play cards or something."

They pulled out a deck of cards and played various games; snap, go fish and then concentration. When that got boring, they started play-wrestling, Dean showing Sam various defensive and all-fensive moves. Of course, for demonstration, he kicked his little brother's ass to show him. Sam called break, which lasted for an hour and television became their source of entertainment.

But there was something to say about Happy Day's being 'entertaining'. Dean thought he would have either died or fallen asleep. This was so not his style of television shows. It was only because of Sam's constant nudging that he didn't do any of those things. The Simpson's replaced that show on the end credits and he perked up, more interested then he had been before.

A knock on the door interrupted their peace about three hours later. Dean glanced at Sam and wordlessly ordered him to stay put, which he did. Peeking through the eye-hole in the door, he was met by two police officers.

Shit, he thought, what did dad do now?

He opened the door. "Can I help you?"

The taller of the two smiled sadly, both officers had their hats in their arms, and Dean was starting to remember shows where they would do that, right before they would inform the person of the death of a loved one. God he hoped now that that wasn't the case, that maybe it was just too hot to wear them.

"Are you Dean Winchester?" he asked, surprising the middle Winchester, how the hell did they know his name?

"Yes, I am."

He fidgeted a little. "We're sorry to have to tell you this, but your father was found dead in an old mine a few miles west from here."

It took Dean a long time to process that, and when he did, he let out a strangled cry and dropped to his knees. Sam was beside him in an instant, pulling his brother into a hug, when he asked the officers what was wrong and got the news, he began to cry just like Dean was.

The officers bid them a sorry goodbye and left, leaving the two brothers huddled in the doorway, clutching each other and crying their eyes out.

The great John Winchester, hunter, friend and father was dead.

Already, the world seemed to be a bit less bright.

**To Be Continued. . .**

**How was that? I bet John fans (if there are any) are all going NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO by this point. If I get any reviews like that, I'm going to freakin' die with laughter. Honestly, in my head, it would sound like you were pushed off a cliff and screaming in slow motion, haha. **

**Now I am going to refer Dean as the eldest Winchester, if you don't mind. Haha. Just giving you heads up.**

**Lots of homicide, suicide, hurt, pain, torture, love, fury, passion and energy to come, so I hope you stick around for the ride. You don't know what you'd be missing out on if you don't.**

**Review please! **


	2. Nightmares

**I just wanted you to know that the characters have their own song! I've found a song that suits their personalities in this story**

**Dean: **Bring Me Back To Life by Evanescence --or-- Tears Don't Fall by Bullet For My Valentine

**Sam : **The Memory Remains by Metallica

**Christian: **Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne

**What do you think so far, does it suit-- despite the fact that Christian won't be coming in until third or fourth chapter at the very least, maybe even the fifth depending on how this story goes. Oh, and there's some Bobby bits in here, I mean; he's entering the story for a little bit. God, I'm having everybody in this story!**

Chapter 2

They stayed in their position by the door, for God know's how long. Neither could believe it, neither wanted to. It was impossible. John could not die on a hunt, it was unheard of, faked maybe. There was no way in heaven or hell that he was dead.

The brother's had stopped crying a while ago, instead they were drawing comfort and stability from the other, needing that, for they felt that they would surely fall away without it. Eventually, they had wiggled backwards and closed the door, to give themselves privacy to grieve.

But no grief could fill in or cover up the gaping hole in their hearts, a hole that was so big, but they had never noticed. They didn't know what they had, and now it was gone, and they didn't get a proper chance to appreciate it. It was gone now, and it wasn't coming back. He was gone from the world forever.

Dean stopped moping, he was all Sam had now, he was the eldest person in the family now. He couldn't cry, he had to stay strong for his brother and because he knew that's what John would have wanted before he passed.

He continued to run his hand through his brother's hair, staring aimlessly ahead of him. He was lost, for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. It was scaring him to suddenly take the weight John had carried, on top of his already heavy load. It was going to crush him, it was too much.

_Shut up! _A rational part of his mind shouted and he winced, _Don't give up! Do you think he would want that?_

The answer was no, and he knew it. Staring down at Sam, he noticed that some small percentage of the weight was on his shoulders too. He desperately wanted to rid him from it, but instead, it was just the excess weight of loss, pain and hurt.

That was something Sam would have to get rid of himself, Dean couldn't do it for him.

Eventually Sam fell asleep against his brother, snuggled close, and his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean stayed there, occasionally shifting around when his backside started to go numb. It was painful and uncomfortable, but it wasn't as bad as the miserable feelings his heard was producing.

The worst thing about having a broken heart, was not being able to remember who you were before.

When he got too tired, because of the tears he had cried, he got under Sam and lifted him into his arms and he carried him to bed. Sam was pretty light for his age, though he was sure that wouldn't last too long.

Dean didn't fall asleep for a while though, he was going over his last moments with John.

He kept that up until his eyes closed, and then a nightmare took hold. He heard someone screaming, a roaring in his ears and someone shouting over and over 'Dean! Dean! Dean!'. He tried to get away from it, he didn't like it. . .

_Dean, Dean, Dean._

"Dean!" A frantic voice cut in. "Dean, wake up, wake up!"

Sam was kneeling over him, his eyes wide and it was apparent that he was frightened. His hands were on both his brother's shoulders, which was what had been shaking him awake. Funnily enough was; he didn't remember much of what he had been dreaming about.

"W-what?" Dean stammered, trying to focus.

Sam didn't relax, his heart was pumping a mile a minute and he was scared out of his mind. "You were having a nightmare. . . screaming for something to 'go away' and 'leave me alone.'" He started breathing deeply, trying to stop his hammering heart from hurting. "What did you mean by that?"

"Just a nightmare Sam . . ." Dean wanted to reassure him, tell him that it was alright.

Then his eyes fell on the empty bed across the room, something that should have been filled by John. And he knew that he couldn't lie to Sam now, nothing was going to be ok, or alright. They were on their own, all that was left of the Winchester family. They had to be careful with their movements and look out for one another. That began with no lies. . . ever. That would be the first sign of their brotherhood going to pieces. And he was desperate to stop that from happening.

He eventually assured Sam that he was fine now, and that he could go back to sleep. Sam was hesitant, wondering if he really should, but his overtaxed body made that decision for him.

Dean, however, stayed awake. Now that he was properly pulled from his slumber, he could recall his nightmare. It was a weird thing for him, but he always had to be fully awake to remember the dreams or nightmares he had.

He didn't know if it was genetic on his mother or father's side, but it was there. Mother and father. . . neither of them had any of those now. They were both dead and they both had been taken down by the supernatural. He glanced toward Sam and swore up and down he would kill himself before he let anything get to his baby brother, the only person he had left now and vice versa.

Dean opted for the television, but the damn thing might as well have been off, because he never saw it. He was too busy thinking, to engrossed in his thoughts to care for much else. He propped his legs up on the lounge and wrapped his arms around his knees. Burying his face into his legs, he closed his eyes and wished to the God's if they were real and listening, to end the nightmare and wake him up and see his father there and know that all the things that had happened lately was just a horribly vivid nightmare. It wasn't likely, but he had to hope. It was all he could do to hope and not to break. Truth was, he was scared. Sam might be more dependant on him then ever now, and he wasn't sure if there was anything he could do to keep the rest of his shattered family (aka; Sam) with him. He was scared absolutely shitless.

Somewhere along the lines of his brooding and despair he had fallen back asleep and his nightmare attacked him again. He jumped upright again, without being shaken awake, he guessed he must have been pretty quiet about his pleading and screaming this time. He looked out the window, and it wasn't even dawn yet, though it was pretty close to it. Around four. He wasn't going to get any sleep so he might as well just stop trying altogether.

The television was on and showing one of those Christian or Catholic programmes, he guessed the channel didn't like putting it on at a time when humanity was awake, so they opted for the sleeping hours. Good call. He grabbed the remote and turned it off and the room was doused in darkness. He stayed where he was, moving on the lounge only so he could lye down and be in a comfortable position.

The good thing about being and staying in shock, was that your brain had nothing to think about. It was like it was on lockdown and shutting thoughts and memories away temporarily. It wouldn't last, but it was nice while it did.

As the sun came up and brightened the room sickeningly, Sam started moving around a little more, indicating that he was just starting to come around and wake up. Dean sat up straighter and peered over to his baby brother. His mind was made up then that he couldn't do this alone, he needed help. And that was a big thing for him to admit.

At around seven, they were packing up. Dean took care of John's leftover belongings, willing himself not to break down and cry, like he so desperately wanted to. John should be alive and here to it himself. Dean didn't even know if they should keep them or bury them somewhere for at least a little bit of closure. Though they would have liked him to be cremated, so there was no chance of him coming back as a vengeful spirit. But they couldn't have everything they wanted, because then John would still be alive.

He had made Sam go out to the car in the middle of packing John's stuff up and he allowed himself to cry a little bit. He pulled himself together and hauled his and his fathers bags out the door, hoping that he didn't leave anything behind.

Sam noticed the red rings around Dean's eyes and said nothing, he had a reason to have them, and if Sam had a mirror, he would have bet that he had them too.

"Where are we going?" He asked, his voice low and lifeless. Not like two day's ago coming to Toledo.

Dean sighed, running his free hand through his unruly, tangled hair. "Pastor Jim's, I think. We'll call Bobby from there and tell him what's happened." He hoped that was a good enough idea, or if he should tell Bobby face to face.

Maybe one day, but definitely not now. There was no way in hell he could admit that John was really dead. Not his hero, not the only one he had relied on once his mother died. The one who had once assured him all would be fine, before he was brought into the world full of chaos and destruction. Not him.

It took three long hours to get to the Pastor's, because Dean, who looked so tired that he might fall asleep during the drive, was going at least thirty over the forty limit. He played chicken with his car and pissed off drivers and pedestrians here and there, he didn't acknowledge that they had screamed insults at him. On normal occasion, he would have stuck his head out the window, insulted them back and follow it up with giving them the finger. It was different now. It was like he was shunted into the passenger seat of his mind, instead of driver.

Pastor Jim's house normally would have been welcoming, like it had always been when they had come to stay numerous times. All of those times, John had dropped them off while he took on a particulary nasty hunt. Now they were coming with different reason's; Dean was having a hard time coping as the eldest of the family now. The one who got to make all the decision's instead of take them; and he didn't even know what the hell to do.

Despite the fact that the Pastor had told them, that when they came over, not bother knocking, but Dean couldn't be bothered intruding now. He had changed for the worst now, because there should be no better in this predicament.

He knocked three loud times on the door, resisting the urge to lean against it in exhaustion and the after-pain of loss.

Caleb answered the door, he smiled brightly at the boys infront of him and it disappeared when there was only two of them instead of three. John made a habit of making sure they were all settled before he left, or at least wait with them at the door.

Something must have happened.

He stood aside and let them in, taking some of the bags from Dean, who looked about ready to topple over from the weight. That and he looked practically dead on his feet. He was frowning, trying to figure out what must have happened.

Pastor Jim walked through, having sent Caleb to the door, he knew someone was visiting. He smiled at the boy's, and then frowned at the look Caleb gave him. 'Something happened', the expression told him and by the look on the Winchester's faces, something bad must have gone on.

"Nice to see you boy's again. Caleb, help them to their rooms, I'll get something for you to eat."

Caleb nodded and helped them up, putting down his load of bags to add two of Sam's to his pile before continuing.

Dean practically threw his load on the bed and fell down onto it as well, barely missing the pile he had made. In Caleb's eyes, he looked lost, miserable and broken. He also thought he might have hit the nail on the head with that one. Sam didn't look much better as he joined Dean there, and ended up being pulled tighly to his older brother.

Deciding to give them a bit of privacy, Caleb turned and left the room and met Pastor Jim at the foot of the stairs. "I think its best we leave them there until they come down, it must be awful if Dean is acting miserable. And we both know his reputation of hiding upsetting emotions from people."

Jim knew he had a point, so he turned away from the stairs and back into the living room.

Sam eventually came down the stairs, half smiled, looked up at the stairs, and took off back up there and came back down, dragging Dean by the forearm. Dean indeed looked absolutely torn apart. Jim winced, he had never seen the elder boy liked this before, and it ate at his heart to see them both like that as well.

The brother's sat down on the lounge, side by side with their shoulders touching.

Jim was patient, he wasn't going to force answers out of them.

When it was apparent Dean wasn't going to say anything, Sam decided it was up to him. "S-something happened," he began lamely, knowing they must have figured that one out on their own.

Caleb sat down as well, in an armchair across from them, looking serious.

"Its about our dad." God, this was so hard, he could already feel Dean tensing up and a soft intake of breath. He glanced at his elder brother and found him sitting with his eyes closed and face half-buried in his hand. "He. . . he's was. . . he's. . . dead."

Jim and Caleb sat their in stunned silence, they had a hard time believing Sam's words. John, dead? God, was it April Fools Day already? When was John going to burst through the door and announced they had hoaxed them.

Even if John was a man of seriousness, it could happen.

"He went off to take on a shapeshifter. Dean would have gone with him, but. . . we kind of disobeyed an order and he got upset and told Dean he wasn't going -" Dean pushed himself up onto his feet and fled upstairs. "Crap," Sam swore, now he upset his brother.

Dean slammed the door behind him as he entered his bedroom. If John had just let him come, there would be a fifty-fifty chance he'd still be fucking breathing. Dean was supposed to be there! He let his father down! He's the reason -

The door opened and Caleb came in. Dean adverted his gaze away. He knew why he was here; he wanted to make sure he was ok, and talk about it. Well he didn't fucking want to talk. He was even beginning to regret coming here in the first place.

Caleb sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry," he said, a little bluntly and forward with it.

"What for?" Dean muttered.

"For your loss."

Dean chuckled humorlessly. "Well, sorry's aren't going to bring him back, so I guess we'll just have to remain quiet about it." 'Cause he knew there was a vast amount of things he was sorry for, and it was pointless; John was never going to hear it.

"Still."

Dean turned around. "I'm not going to talk about it, I've got nothing to talk about anyway."

Caleb liften his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that? Sam said you disobeyed one of your father's orders before he died. That's not like you, don't you think?"

"What, so are you implying I did it as a 'fuck you, your going to die, go burn in hell' gesture? Do my own thing right before he was murdered? Is that what you are saying, huh? Is it?" He was on the verge of hysteric's, and knew it. He couldn't stop himself.

The elder man still wore that calm expression that Dean wanted to shatter. "No, I'm not. But is that what you think?"

"No, its not. And I don't want to talk about it."'

Caleb wasn't going to give up so easily. "Are you sure?"

Who was he, a shrink? "Yes."

He stood up, nodding. "Well, if you do, you know where to find me."

Something snapped inside Dean and he grabbed the desk chair and flung it across the room, where it connected with the wall. It didn't manage to break the plaster, but it was a close call. "God, just leave me alone!" he shouted.

Caleb nodded, clapped Dean on the shoulder and left. His heart was hurting in his chest, the Winchester boy's didn't deserve this. They were good kids. Why did fate have to deal them with the misery card?

Sam was curled on the lounge like a cat, with one of Jim's hot chocolate drink sitting on the coffee table. Judging by how it was still full almost to the brim, it was still untouched.

"What was that bang?" Sam asked.

Caleb sighed. "That was Dean throwing a chair across the room," he informed the young kid.

Sam should have expected violent anger from his brother, it was his way of grieving. "I guess so. . ."

"How are you holding up, kid?"

"Compared to Dean? I'm doing ok, I guess. I'm just waiting to wake up and find out it was all just a dream, you know?" The men before him nodded knowingly. "But some part of me tells me that this is real and then I get depressed again." He sighed deeply. "To think it was only yesterday, God - sorry- man it feels like a long time ago. . ." And even if it had been, the pain would never fully go away. Both he and his brother would be doomed to a lifetime of unhappiness.

Which was almost no different to any other day of their lives, except when John left yesterday, he never came back.

So this must be how John and Dean had felt when Mary died. Sam had always considered Dean too young to remember her, but he had a long-term memory. Photographic at times. Feeling like this absolutely sucked.

He grabbed the cup and drank half of it in one go, despite when it scalded his throat, he kept on drinking. Chocolate didn't even do a thing now, it didn't make the sadness disappear like it normally would.

He glared at the cup angrily and then left it alone, if it wasn't going to make things better, he wasn't going to have anything to do with it.

"I've got to go up and see Dean." he said finally, getting off the lounge. He saw them hesitate. "He won't hurt me," he assured them and then took off up the stairs.

Dean was face first in his pillows. Sam would have thought he was sleeping, if the hand grasping the pillow wasn't moving. He sat down and put a hand to his big brother's back.

Dean jumped, startled and sat up. "Sam," he said.

"Hi, you ok?" Sam asked timidly, feeling like he was treading on egg-shells with his brother's temper.

"Yeah, I'm fine, in physical terms. What about you?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't really know. Why'd you throw a chair?"

"Just lost it, I guess. Caleb was trying to make me talk when I didn't want to." Dean was feeling really bad about his outburst. He glimpsed the chair in the same place he left it in and then looked away, ashamed.

Sam noticed shadow's under Dean's eyes. "I think you need to go to sleep -"

"No!"

Sam jumped at the sharp and quick shout from his brother. "But you look really tired," he implored.

"No, I don't want to go to sleep, Sam. Not tired." He was fighting down a yawm as he spoke. The nightmare from last night and early that morning loomed down on him again. He didn't want to feel that miserable and hopeless wrath that came down on him when he dreamt. It was like the hell mix of his life.

He didn't want to go back there again.

Sam was persistant. But eventually gave up and went to go fetch some sandwiches from downstairs. When he came back out, Dean was asleep. He smiled a little and then backed out of the room.

It wasn't long after that, when the screams began.

Jim, Caleb and Sam paused in horror and then they were all rushing upstairs. Dean never made a sound like that, and to hear something so terrifying and desperate come from his lips. . . something had to be really wrong.

Caleb and Jim paused at the door as Sam burst through it and onto the bed. Dean was having the nightmare's from the night before.

Dean was thrashing around on the bed, even with the blankets twisted around him like a strait-jacket. His face was contorted and his scream's were heart-wrenching.

Sam grasped his shoulders and shook him like a rag doll, desperate to wake him up. Tears were running down Dean's face and it was hurting Sam so much to see them. His shouts for his brother to wake up mingled with the shrieks of Dean, who was begging someone to leave him alone. . . and he didn't mean it? This was concerning, but Sam only cared about waking him up. That stuff could be dealt with later.

"NO, NO! PLEASE! I DIDN'T MEAN IT! PLEASE! NO!"

Tears were coursing down Sam's cheek. It was absolutely killing him to see Dean in such a vulnerable, scared state. John's death had altered him in more ways then one. He continued to shake Dean and moan and plead for him to wake up and snap out of it.

Caleb clutching a glass of cold water and tipped it over Dean's face. That did the trick.

Dean sat upright with a startled gasp, effectively drawn from his nightmare when nothing else would work. He was surprised to find everyone crowded around him, horror-stricken and worried. He was confused.

"What?" he asked.

"Nightmare? Dude where was your mind, in hell?" Sam asked, remembering the 'nightmare' Dean had last night. That was not a normal reaction for something that was supposed to be a nightmare.

Dean blushed. "Again?" he asked wearily.

Jim crossed his arms. "This has happened before?" he asked, his voice daring them to tell him some kind of lie.

Sam nodded. "Last night. We were sleeping and then all of a sudden, he starts screaming. Took a lot to wake him up, actually. Just like now."

Caleb looked directly into Dean's eyes. "What was it about?"'

"Nothing," came the typical Dena answer.

Sam laughed incredulously. "After what we just saw, how can you tell us that it was nothing?"

"I don't remember it."

Caleb wasn't stupid. "Bullshit. When we told you about the nightmare you said 'again'. If you didn't remember the nightmares, you wouldn't have said it."

They were right, but he was too humiliated to answer them. He wasn't ready to talk about the nightmares, his father's death. Anything. He just wasn't ready for it. His expression turned pleading and Jim intercepted the scene.

"Come on, Dean. Lets get you something to eat, you look like you saw Death."

That was actually a close guess. Dean got up and swayed on unsteady feet as momentary vertigo took hold of him. Sam steadied him quickly.

Chicken sandwiches. Dean dug in and ate half, no one complained about it. He looked like he needed food. He saved the rest for them, and they thanked him for it. Still, they wondered what the hell that nightmare had been about. Well, there was one thing it managed to do; scare the heck out of them.

Dean was still tired, but he would not go to sleep, unless someone drugged him.

He curled up on the lounge after he had his lunch and flicked on the t.v, planning to stay there stubbornly. The only way he would go to sleep is if his body couldn't stay awake any more, or he was knocked out.

Two days, thirty minutes, twenty-five seconds. Dean was still awake. His eyes were drooping, but nonetheless, he was awake. He had never stayed up like this in his life, he could hear Sam's light snores and envied him; he could go to sleep without those forsaken nightmares plaguing his sleep. He wished there was something he could do to stop them, just give him some peace for once. Hell, why was he getting these nightmares, were they telling him something, or were they just dreams? He heard of physic's being able to do that, but he wasn't sure if it was some kind of joke, or the real thing. Looking toward Sam he sighed.

If it would get rid of these dreams, he might as well give it a try.

**To Be Continued. . .**

**How was that? I love writing this story, I feel more connected to it then I have ever been to a story before. Just a reminder, that this is a series. No, I don't have everything planned out yet, I've only just begun writing it, but I'm getting an idea. **

**Oh and just so you know, I have no problem's with Christian's and Catholic's . . . But this was Dean I was writing about, lol. Though, you can probably count me as one of the biggest disbelievers out there, though I have no problem with people who believe - don't swarm me with hate mail!**

**So, tell me what you want to see and your thoughts on the story so far. **

**I think the Dean in my story, is not actually like the Dean we know. So I guess in the next few chapters I'm going from emotional, to emotionally unstable and frightfully angry. **

**Constructive critism only. If it has to be harsh, then message me - I have only just enabled it again. **

**Keep Reading!**


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